


You Can Go Home Again

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Hogwarts, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Pre-Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-06-30 22:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15761079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: Harry returns to Hogwarts to receive Potions instruction from an unwelcome source.





	You Can Go Home Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chantefable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantefable/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Malfoy's Manuscript (A Fragment)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3736261) by [chantefable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantefable/pseuds/chantefable). 



Harry sat before McGonagall’s desk—Headmistress McGonagall’s desk—watching her expression for any sign of what she was thinking. 

_She’s thinking that I should have gone back to school like Hermione did_ , he decided.

“Why just Potions, Potter?” McGonagall asked, after what felt like an eternity. 

“Well,” Harry said awkwardly, for everything about this was awkward, “I sort of learned everything else on the job. By watching other Aurors. But Potions… the N.E.W.T. requires a practical portion and…”

“And you failed the practical portion,” McGonagall finished. 

“Yes,” Harry answered, for there was nothing else he could say besides the cold, honest truth. He had already taken his N.E.W.T.s at the Ministry—the ones he could pass with just Hermione's careful coaching, at any rate. It wasn't that he was awful at Potions—without Snape breathing down his neck, he was halfway decent; he'd proven that in Slughorn's class. But Hermione was an occasionally frustrating teacher—nearly as bad as Snape, at times. 

“We will need to ask the Potions Master if he has the time to prepare lessons for an additional student.”

“Wh—" Harry sat up. "It’s not Slughorn?”

“No, Mr. Potter. Professor Slughorn has retired. For the second and, he says, last time.” 

This was an unwelcome development. He'd been hoping review with Slughorn would be pleasant, not like school at all. And now what would he do with the box of crystallized pineapple he'd brought with him?

"So… he isn't available?" he asked. Perhaps there was some loophole. Perhaps she would tell him where Slughorn lived. Surely he would welcome a visit from Harry. The man so loved favors… 

Even after all these years, McGonagall still managed to be able to look at him as though he were a misbehaving first year. "You will need to meet with our current Potions Master." As though on cue, the door behind Harry opened. He turned in his seat and came face to face with... blond Snape.

No. It wasn't blond Snape. It was Draco Malfoy, looking terrible.

"Hello, Potter," Malfoy said, as though Harry were a lifeform below suitability for a potions ingredient.

"Hi," Harry said, finally managing to recover his power of speech. "Are you the new Potions Master?"

"That is why I have been summoned here today. To deal with your schooling."

It really did sound like Snape. Perhaps there was something about spending too much time around potion fumes. 

"Well," McGonagall said, "now that the two of you are reacquainted, you can get on with lessons. I am sure Professor Malfoy is very busy."

Harry was sure, too, that no matter how busy or not-busy Malfoy was, he would not have time for Harry.

**

Malfoy had made few changes to Snape's office that Harry could see. The walls were still lined with jars of unsettling things, and it might have been Harry's imagination, but the collection seemed even larger.

"Can I assume your preparation is adequate up to such point as you saw fit to drop out of school?"

There were no pleasantries, no offer to sit. 

"Yeah," Harry said. "Hermione's helped me prepare."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "And seventh year was beyond her abilities? She returned with us for an eighth year so I highly doubt that."

Harry had forgotten Malfoy had gone back to school. "I need to work with a licensed Potions instructor." He paused. "In order to retake the N.E.W.T." 

Malfoy nodded slowly, but there was no hint of judgement on his face. 

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he said. "I'll find someone else. I just wanted to come here first."

Malfoy's expression was unreadable. "I wouldn't want to inconvenience you, Potter."

"Well, I don't want to inconvenience you either. McGonagall said you were busy. You have all the rest of your classes."

Malfoy made a disagreeable-sounding noise. "And if I sent you away, I would never hear the end of it."

"Well, I'll try to make it as easy on you as I can." 

Malfoy gave him skeptical look. "Let me give you my pre-N.E.W.T. assessment and we can see where your knowledge gaps are."

Harry was grateful that Malfoy started treating him like a student. If it had been Snape, he would still have been insulting Harry. 

_If it was Snape_ , Harry thought, as he scratched away with his quill while Malfoy marked papers, _he wouldn't have taken me on._  
  
The first few questions were easy and Harry breezed through them. He knew this material from a combination of work, his six years of schooling, and what he could tolerate of Hermione's lectures. As he reached the bottom of the scroll, though, the questions became increasingly more difficult. He was puzzling over a short-answer question about six different kinds of poison when Malfoy looked up.

"Finished?"

It didn't sound as condescending as it had perhaps been meant. 

Harry scanned the rest of the questions. "I think we've found my, er, knowledge gaps."

"No matter. We'll fill them."

Harry didn't comment on that almost-pleasant remark. He didn't want to make Malfoy conscious of his own attitude, lest it change. 

"I'll go over this and draw up a lesson plan. You can come back next Friday and we'll start."

Harry left Malfoy's office and made his way out of the dungeons, smiling and waving at a shy cluster of first-year Hufflepuff girls. Why was he almost sort of looking forward to next week?

**

As Friday approached, Harry's anxiety grew. Malfoy was going to give him piles of work. For all their years of rivalry at school, Malfoy was now in a position of authority over Harry and he could only imagine him pushing it to its fullest extent. That was what Malfoy would do. 

It was with dread that he trudged up the Hogwarts drive from the village.

"What are you doing back here?" Filch said as Harry stepped into the entrance hall.

"Just going to see an old schoolmate." 

Filch looked at him skeptically—Neville was the only other of Harry's schoolmates who had become a Hogwarts teacher and he would be found down in the greenhouses—but Harry ignored him. Being an adult had its perks, he decided, and one of them was being able to walk right past Argus Filch without fearing detention.

"What are you smiling about?" Malfoy asked when Harry stepped into the Potions classroom. It seemed smaller than he remembered, desks almost piled on top of each other. 

"Oh. I was just talking to Filch and thinking about how he can't give me detention anymore."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. That was something he _had_ to have learned from Snape. "He still could. You _are_ a student here again."

Harry smirked. "Are you going to give me detention?"

Malfoy looked almost speechless. "Not unless you deserve it."

"Then I'll try to be good." 

Malfoy looked as if he'd swallowed a lemon, but Harry decided that was probably how he always looked these days.

They worked for hours, Malfoy coaching Harry through the brewing of two N.E.W.T. potions.

"Not bad," he said, studying the results. Harry's blood-replenishing potion looked unsettlingly brown, but it smelled right, according to Malfoy.

"Are you sure?" Harry did not quite trust the color. 

"It's supposed to be this color," Malfoy said. He then launched into a long explanation about iron that sounded shockingly Muggle.

Despite himself, he found he was actually listening. He'd never found a lecture from Snape interesting. Even Slughorn, who had made Potions more fun than Snape, had never made Harry want to stay after the end of class to hear more.

"It's getting late," Harry said suddenly, looking at his watch. "You'll have missed dinner."

Malfoy gave him a withering look, his normal attitude back in place. "We are no longer students, Potter. Teachers get certain privileges not afforded to students, namely a meal whenever they need one. I will summon a house-elf." 

"Oh," Harry said. "I wonder how Winky's doing."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "You want to know about a house-elf?"

"Yeah—she's a friend."

"You do have some strange friends, Potter." It was said without malice, though, with something almost resembling affection. "Do you want to go to the kitchens?"

"You? Want to go to the kitchens?" He couldn't picture it of Malfoy. He could only see Malfoy snapping his fingers and having whatever he wanted delivered on a silver platter.

"Of course I don't _want_ to go to the kitchens. You obviously do, though, and I can't let you wander around on your own when you're not officially a student or employed here." 

Harry nodded, though it wasn't as if he'd _asked_ to go to the kitchens.

They were a short walk from Malfoy's office, through several turns and passages, making Harry wonder if Slytherin students came to the kitchens. He hadn't known you could get from one place to the other. Such a thought would never have occurred to him as a student, when he'd half had the idea that Slytherins did nothing but skulk into their common room after classes, emerging only to hex Hufflepuffs. 

"I haven't done this in years," Harry admitted, though he knew he was stating the obvious. He wanted to provoke Malfoy into saying something about his own student days, something Harry hadn't already known about him. What _had_ he got up to with his friends, out of sight of Gryffindors? 

"Should I be surprised you broke this school rule when I already knew you broke every other?"

Harry shrugged sheepishly. "I thought maybe everyone did it."

"I," Malfoy said, reaching out to tickle the pear, "had the house-elves bring food to my dormitory."

"I knew it."

Malfoy gave him a weird sort of smile as they stepped into the kitchen. He wasn't used to Malfoy smiling in any way that wasn't mocking. It was almost like he enjoyed having Harry around.

That illusion ended as soon as they stepped properly into the kitchens.

"Harry Potter?" squeaked a voice.

The cry was taken up by others. "Harry Potter!" 

Just like in his fourth year, the house-elves gaped at him, crowding around him in awe. He remembered how embarrassed his teenage self had been, but now he shook hands and greeted each one, sending them away glowing.

Malfoy watched with his arms crossed over his chest, glowering at him with a look Harry hadn't even thought about all afternoon. 

"I see that's one way you haven't changed," Malfoy said, once he'd finally been released by the adoring elves. "Still like to draw a crowd."

Harry ran a hand through his hair self-consciously. Why did Malfoy still think that? Why had he _ever_ thought it? "It's not like that," he said sourly. "It's for them, not me. They'd be disappointed if I just turned them away."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah." Harry shrugged. He didn't have to pretend anything in front of Malfoy, of all people. What did he care what Malfoy thought? "It bothered me when I was a kid. I was famous for something I couldn't help, something I didn't even remember. I didn't even know about it until I was eleven." 

For the first time, Malfoy managed to look genuinely surprised. "You didn't?" 

"No." Harry paused. "You didn't know that?"

"No." Malfoy looked almost confused. "How would I? You never told me."

"So you really don't remember Madam Malkin's?"

Malfoy blinked owlishly. "Madam Malkin's? What about it?"

"We met there. Before Hogwarts, when Hagrid brought me to Diagon Alley to get my school things."

" _Hagrid_ brought you?" Malfoy's face was so furrowed in confusion Harry had to laugh.

"It's all right. I wasn't much to remember."

"Harry Potter!" 

Harry recognized this voice and looked down.

"Winky!"

She was standing before him, smiling proudly, looking far better than she had the first time he'd encountered her in the Hogwarts kitchens. She was wearing a clean pink dress and was holding a wooden spoon, looking formidable. She reminded Harry, oddly, of Mrs. Weasley. 

"Winky is pleased Harry Potter came back to visit the house-elves. Of course Harry Potter would remember the house-elves of Hogwarts!"

Harry smiled. "I would never forget you lot." _Just took me seven years to get back._

"What would Harry Potter like?"

The mouthwatering memories of a Hogwarts meal came rushing back to him. "We don't want to be any trouble," he said, despite Malfoy's scowl. "We'll just have what was served at dinner."

Harry and Malfoy sat down at the duplicate of the Slytherin table and dug into heaping plates of shepherd's pie. Harry wondered if he could beg meals at Hogwarts more often. That would require staying late with Malfoy each week, but he could probably manage that. 

They both must have been hungry for neither spoke for a long time.

"Surprised you've not been back," Malfoy said. "The way you walk around like you own the place."

"I don't think that," Harry said reflexively. "But I guess it is surprised I've not been back. You know, this is the only place that's ever felt like home to me. I was never welcome at my Muggle relatives' house. I don't know if you knew that." Malfoy gave no indication either way. "And now I'm living in Sirius' house, but it doesn't feel like mine."

Malfoy laughed. "My mother says it should be hers."

"She can have it for all I care."

This, too, seemed to surprise Malfoy. "Then where would you live?"

Harry shrugged. "I'd find some place. Place of my own." The prospect didn't sound terribly appealing either—he'd at least got Grimmauld Place close to the way he liked it, and it seemed a shame to abandon it now. "If you really want to know why I've not been back…" He paused, trying to gauge Malfoy's expression. It was his usual bored one, but there was a gleam of interest in his eyes. "I was afraid I might not be able to, y'know, unsee the battle. I didn't want to come around a corner and just see where Fred and Remus died."

Malfoy did not say anything for a moment. His expression did not change. Finally, he said, "I thought that, too, when I took the job. I thought I might just think about Crabbe or… being on the wrong side." 

Harry nodded. They didn't need to speak about it, but there was an odd moment of kinship.

"How come you came back?"

"Because I had to _work_ , Potter. My family was disgraced. My father lost enough money that I couldn't live as he did. I wouldn't exactly be welcome swanning into Shacklebolt's ministry to give him advice."

"No—well, I mean, I guess that's why. I just wondered why potions? Why teaching?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I was good at it, and they needed someone. Potions is hard to teach, you know. Snape was a rubbish instructor, but it is indeed very difficult to oversee twenty cauldrons managed by eleven-year-olds, some of whom who didn't know potions existed six weeks ago."

Harry thought of the DA. "Yeah, I can't imagine I'd be good at that. I mean, I don't mind teaching, but first-year Potions sounds terrible."

"And then you get Gryffindor and Slytherin together in a double, and a pair of boys take a disliking to each other and try to throw things in each other's cauldrons." There was the trace of a smirk on his lips.

Harry laughed. "Sounds like a handful."

"I gave them both detention for creating an unsafe environment in the lab. But then again, neither of their fathers suspect me of being a spy. I don't need to appease any of them. I can be fair, like McGonagall."

"D'you really think that was why Snape was how he was?"

Draco sighed. "Part of it was just Snape. But I do know my father wanted to keep an eye on him, test his loyalties. He was my godfather, you know, though I don't know that my parents particularly liked him. He was always around when I was younger, before Hogwarts."

"I really don't understand how you lot operate."

Malfoy chuckled. "You'd learn if you had to live among us."

"The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin." Harry had not thought of this in years, but he found it was suddenly important that Malfoy know. 

"Did it?" Malfoy did not even blink. 

"You aren't surprised? Shocked that someone like me could end up in Slytherin?"

"My father," Malfoy said coolly, "thought you could be a Dark wizard. You defeated the Dark Lord, after all. He reasoned that you had to be powerful, even if you didn't know it. How else could you have deflected the Killing Curse? He asked me to make friends with you in first year. You probably would have made a fair Slytherin."

"Not sure I would have liked myself much." 

Malfoy shrugged. "You'd have been all right. You would have learned some guile, I daresay."

Harry wasn't too sure of that, but it was weirdly satisfying to have Malfoy's confidence. "Thanks, I think. And thanks for—well, putting up with me for the next few weeks."

Malfoy looked as if he'd forgotten all about their lessons together. His façade dropped into place instantly like stage scenery. "It was preferable to the alternative. McGonagall would never let me forget it."

Harry laughed. "I can imagine."

There was a long pause, which was filled when Winky brought them treacle tart.

"Winky remembers Harry Potter's favorite!" she proclaimed.

"What about Draco Malfoy's favorite?" Harry asked her.

Winky looked surprised but she turned expectantly to Malfoy. 

"It's… treacle tart, actually," Malfoy admitted. 

Winky toddled off contentedly and Harry turned back to Malfoy. "Tell me if I'm wasting your time."

Malfoy looked down at his treacle tart. "It's all right. I haven't anything else to do."

"You think the Wasps might take it this year?" He had tired of talking about the past, and well, now that he knew Malfoy was a real person, he wanted to know more.

Malfoy did not miss a beat. "Hardly. It's the Arrows' cup to lose."

"They won't get far without Morrigan." 

As they talked, Harry felt himself relax. He noticed a lightening of Malfoy's face, too. This would not be horrible, he decided. Ron would be surprised that he was enjoying spending time with Malfoy. Perhaps Harry wouldn't tell him right away. He definitely wouldn't tell Ron what pleasant company Malfoy was. 

Or quite how much he was looking forward to next Friday. 

This wasn't a date. Not close. 

Harry wasn't so sure about the future.


End file.
